


Make it home

by SayNevermore



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood, Canonical Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 15:12:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14855153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SayNevermore/pseuds/SayNevermore
Summary: tumblr request: "Crowe’s Death -  I have a desperate need to know how that played out, and no idea how to write it myself"





	Make it home

The motorcycle rolled out of the truck without a sound, and Crowe took a deep breath of fresh hair. It smelled of sand and smoke, of cold and quiet.

Life behind the wall was incredibly silent. 

The road went straight for the desert, cutting through greyish dirt and dry plants. Nothing else to see but the foundations of what was a human construction, long destroyed and forgotten. From Insomnia, images from Lucis came from the few drones that the crownsguard or press organs managed to slip past Niflheim’s watch to finish a tour and come home. Crowe was theoretically aware of the desolation that reigned in the immediate vicinity of the Wall; the crashed airships and abandoned weapons. But, standing here now, she realized that the place did not look at all like what she had imagined and a lot more like nothing.

This, of course, made the appearance of the grey truck at the crossroads instantly suspicious.

The timing was suspicious. There was no one else around.

It was a secret mission which meant no possible communications between the HQ and her. Drautos had made her memorize all the information she would need, in a small room with just the two of them. That someone had heard them and known where she would be in that very moment was impossible. That someone had learned about it by any other mediator…

No. This wasn’t possible either.

She didn’t have time to make any mistake yet. So this wasn’t on her. It couldn’t be on the driver. It couldn’t be…

The van stopped right in front of her. 

There was only a number of things or people that could come out of this van and none of these options were good. Crowe’s grip tightened on the handlebars and she glanced at the tarmac. There was just a small, way too small space between the wheels of the truck and the side of the road, in which the bike wouldn’t fit. She sent gas into the circuit. She couldn't beat them on speed alone, but a bike could go off road much more easily than a car could, and maybe they would give up if she proved a challenge.

Luche pointed a gun at her--of course it was him, of fucking course, that asshole--and shot where she was half a second ago. The sound of the bullet got lost in the scream of the motor as she rolled off the asphalt.

Her jaw was already hating the violent vibration but, well, priorities. 

Ten seconds later reality caught up with her and the bike started trembling too dangerously; and as she slowed down to throw herself down, she felt pain spreading through her spine.

It was a second later that she realized she had heard four detonations before they got a hit. 

She lost track of where she was, in which position she was; clouds of dust surrounded her until she couldn’t see the sky. The pain was taking control of her brain, turning the world, and her body, into an incomprehensible mess. 

And when finally, she could process the things she saw again, it was only to feel her back break in a thousand pieces with renewed acuity. 

Crowe was a fighter, a soldier. She knew exactly the feeling of hot metal piercing the skin, of bones breaking and muscles tearing. She knew the lack of breath from the impact of a bullet. She knew the loss of control, the three seconds of despair before the adrenaline kicked in, the also knew the magic burning at her skin, the lightning hitting her shoulder. She learned, like all soldiers, when to worry and when to ignore. Sometimes the amount of pain wasn’t an accurate indication of the gravity of the wound. She knew the bite of the battlefield and where it was tolerable, and where it was incapacitating. But this?

It was like a thousand battlefields gnawing at her belly, a thousand wolves feasting on her guts, it shouldn’t hurt that much, so much she couldn’t breathe or scream or think, it shouldn’t feel like she was dissolving on the ground from just one bullet…

But it kept happening, and she was just able to understand.where she was and that she was exposed; she couldn't just stay here. The breaths she took, she didn't know whether or not they helped but she pushed on her arms trying to crawl. Her jaw tightened to hold her screams.

As long as she did not look, it wasn’t that bad. All she had to do was hide somewhere safe, and she could tend her wounds. Someone would notice something… Drautos would send Nyx, or Pelna or Miles… she couldn’t give up now. Just a few minutes after going silent, before she could even leave the wall behind her… she was a fighter! She was a glaive, she couldn't just… bleed out in Leide on a simple undercover retrieving mission. 

A shadow loomed over her.

She could still use her magic, right? She could use her magic if she wasn’t dead. Even with her hands on the ground, she could summon clouds and send lightning hitting from above, she could… 

The gun went off, and though her chest another painful shock turned into devouring fire.

“Incredible. Niflheim’s technology really is impressive.”

She wished hatred would give her a push, but despair took away her will when Luche pointed the gun at her head; her hands already had stopped responding and her arms and legs felt heavy and wrong.

“H… W…” 

She opened her mouth and burped something hot and liquid; spit it all over her chin. Luch shook his head, without lowering the gun.

“Don't talk, Crowe. The bullet is destroying your organs. You have a few minutes left.”

There was blood inside her throat. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe she couldn't breathe she couldn't breathe

“Hurts, right? I can help with that. You know… it wasn’t about you personally. The captain beat himself up on it as well.”

She didn't even have the energy to be upset. The survival instincts frantically connected the dots in hope of a solution but there was nothing. She couldn't breathe...

Luche looked almost convincingly sad when he kneeled next to her.

“I’m sorry you couldn't make it home.”

She didn't hear the gunshot this time.


End file.
